


There's Blood in My Mouth 'Cause I've Been Biting My Tongue All Week

by Wand_of_Thunder



Series: Waiting For My Real Life to Begin [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis becomes a BAMF, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Jane and Darcy work for the Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wand_of_Thunder/pseuds/Wand_of_Thunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as Darcy was concerned, James Barnes was a monster and it had nothing to do with the metal arm.</p>
<p>Or, Bucky becomes Darcy's personal trainer and wont stop pissing her off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hold It In

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm new to this whole "letting people read my writing" thing. Also I have no beta. But I wrote this at work one day and am actually kinda proud of it. I have more ideas for this pairing, so maybe I can post more...? 
> 
> Anyway, Thanks for being here!

 

Darcy Lewis hated confrontation. Any sign of discord or tension brewing and she would feel compelled to crack a lame joke, embarrass herself, and back away slowly from the situation with both hands metaphorically raised in surrender. Or, if that wasn’t possible, ramble endlessly on and on until the situation cooled itself off. Her fight or flight instinct was basically all flight. Which was probably a _good_ thing at this point in her life since she was predominantly surrounded by people that could END her with very little effort expended on their part. Well, and Jane with her tiny little bird arms (and surprisingly sharp fingernails), but she didn’t count because she signed Darcy’s paychecks and fighting with the boss could reflect poorly on her bank account.

  
Even since jumping - _blindly_ \- onto the Avengers bandwagon with her pint-sized leader, she’s steered clear of the fray, assisting Jane in running mission support for the team and staying as firmly behind the scenes as humanly possible. Occasionally, she left the office safely nestled in Stark Tower to set up shop on location for the trickier, more hush-hush missions, though she was never without backup. Generally, people accepted the fact that Darcy was not a fighter and acted accordingly.

  
But there was something about Sergeant James Barnes that made Darcy go completely against her nature. They first met during one of her biweekly training sessions with Natasha. The Black Widow had showed up in Darcy and Jane’s shared office one day, wordlessly slapped the cheese danish out of Darcy’s hand, and curtly informed her that she would be in charge of her new training regimen starting _now_. While originally upset, because hey! that particular pastry had set her back eight bucks at Starbucks that morning, Darcy quickly figured out this was Natasha’s own (weird and very scary) way of letting Darcy know that she cared if she lived or died, just in case. And if her clothes fit better as a side-effect, she wasn’t going to complain. The only real problem with the Black Widow being your physical trainer was that she was a busy person. When the call came in, Natasha had to answer, often leaving Darcy in the temporary hands of Barton or Rogers (both of whom went a lot easier on the flailing young newbie). Natasha had never led Darcy astray before, but when she showed up in the gym with a stony-faced, metal-arm wielding former Winter Soldier and broke the news that he would be taking over the sessions indefinitely while the Black Widow went under deep cover, Darcy was dubious. 

“You’re leaving me with _him_?” Darcy whispered, both pulling Natasha aside and keeping her distance from the strange man. She heard enough stories around the tower to be a little on edge. The Winter Soldier’s recovery had been a bumpy road, to put it lightly. It didn’t help that they lived on the same floor and he never said two words to her, despite Darcy’s best attempts to be friendly.

“Who do you think trained me?” Natasha replied with a knowing, concerned smile. “I couldn’t be leaving you in more capable hands, Darce. Trust me?”

Darcy nodded without hesitation. She and Natasha had developed a rapport. Darcy felt safe under her direction, knew that she could count on the other woman as both a mentor and friend. She could only hope she knew what she was doing, leaving her at the mercy of James Barnes. Steve was really the only one that ever called him Bucky. The name sounded too irreverent for such a figure to everyone else.

“Steve unavailable?” Darcy’s voice sounded small in her own ears and she grimaced. But she was curious as to why Natasha went in such a serious direction regarding her training. Steve was gentle, encouraging and let her eat whatever she wanted, in moderation. Barnes, though his best friend, looked _hard_ and would probably make her eat rocks and rusty nails for breakfast, while running twenty miles uphill every day with a Gatling gun strapped to her back. There was no way he had any other morning routine, looking like he did.

“Steve babies you. James wont.” And with that rather ominous statement, Natasha turned gracefully on her heel and stalked out of the gym, the door swooshing shut loudly behind her. Darcy felt like a lamb cornered by a wolf.

All he did was stand there and glare at her for a good chunk of time. Like he was sizing her up. Darcy squirmed, feeling the need to bolt well up inside her. Then James just laughed, loud and rough and clapped her roughly on the back with his human hand.

“Don’t look so grim, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you… for today.”

To James Barnes “easy” apparently meant grueling and filled with back-handed compliments and thinly veiled threats of violence if she didn’t run faster, kick higher, keep herself together better. Darcy was equal parts sweaty and silently furious by lunch time. And the fun didn’t stop there. He _followed_ her to the commissary, not trusting her to buy the right food and sat quietly beside her to make sure she ate each and every bite of the high protein, painfully bland meal. It was embarrassing and it was overkill to the extreme. She was a grown woman for crying out loud. She could handle something as simple as _lunch_.

About ten minutes in, Jane wandered over with a tray of two banana nut muffins and a bowl of soup, her face so far into a textbook that she didn’t even notice the extra presence at their usual table until she turned to ask Darcy for change for the soda machine and wound up face to face with Bucky Barnes.

“You’re not my- Darcy…” Jane started, her face coloring. 

“Clearly,” he smirked back, looking slightly deranged. The man obviously enjoyed the discomfort of others. 

“Yeah, I’m on your right _Doctor_ ,” Darcy waved her hand in an “ _earth to Jane_ ” fashion and smiled apologetically to her friend and boss. “Schwarzenegger over there is my new handler, apparently. It was Natasha’s idea, not mine. He doesn’t trust me to eat properly without his expertise, so-“she spread her arms like a brunette Vanna White, laying the situation out before Jane. James snorted into his disgusting glass of green mush and pushed Darcy’s own glass of the vile looking drink closer to her.

“Drink this,” he demanded, otherwise ignoring her previous comments.

“ _Save me_ ,” she mouthed to Jane.

Jane just laughed, patted Darcy on the shoulder and went back to her reading. 

Darcy was doomed.  


* * *

  
Their trainer-trainee relationship was tumultuous at best. Which normally, wouldn’t have been too big of a deal if they didn’t have to see each other every single day. Outside the gym, they occupied the same floor in the tower with Steve and Jane (and Thor when planet-side). Tension was always palpable between the two, especially when off the clock.  
In Darcy’s eyes, Barnes was a hard-ass and had a penchant for making her feel terrible about herself and her life choices. He nit-picked every little thing. Nothing Darcy ever did was good enough for him and it frustrated her to no end. He was rude. He was bossy, controlling, and cold. And worst of all, he made her cut out caffeine completely from her diet. As far as Darcy was concerned, James Barnes was a monster and it had nothing to do with the metal arm.

He had his qualms with her, or course. He saw her as soft, an easy target. She relied on words and other people to protect her and it was nearly impossible to break that habit. She just wouldn’t accept the fact that a bad guy with a gun wasn’t going to wait for her to say something witty or for Captain America to burst in and save the day. Bad guys shot first, questions be damned. Nothing he did seemed to get that through her thick skull. No matter how loud he yelled, how far he pushed her she didn’t get it. And _he liked Darcy_. He really did (no one else in the tower could make his old friend Steve more flustered than that woman and it secretly amused the hell out of him). And he didn’t want to see her end up on a slab because he failed to instill in her proper self-defense techniques. 

Things came to a head one Saturday night when Jane was in a slump and Darcy wanted to take her out for bottomless margaritas and tapas. After wrangling Jane into something other than jeans and flannel and throwing on her own favorite twirly halter dress, Darcy was in the process of calling for a taxi when a shiny metal hand snatched her phone away from her ear and rudely hung up.

“Give it back, Barnes,” Darcy grumbled. Weeks’ worth of frustration and anger that was bubbling just under the surface threatened to spill out all over the place. She had earned a night off for fucks sake!

“Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?” he drawled, tilting his head mockingly to the side. He knew the pet name pissed her off and he told himself that it was only part of her training, to get her to channel the anger he saw her constantly choke down around him. But on the rare occasions when he was honest with himself, he knew he mostly did it to see her face flush a pleasing pink and her blue eyes widen in annoyance. For a man in his nineties, he might as well have been pulling her pigtails or kicking sand at the playground. 

“It’s _Saturday_!” just managed to slip through her gritted teeth. 

Jane lingered behind Darcy, keeping her distance from the pair. She had enough experience with dealing with them to know it was better to not interfere. Maybe she could slip back to her lab and continue the research she been forcefully dragged away from…

“I have got a calendar, but thanks for the heads up. And that doesn’t answer my question,” James flashed his teeth dangerously. But Darcy was having none of it. She reached the end of her rope about five minutes ago.

“ _I’m going out_!” Darcy exclaimed throwing her arms up wildly. “Jane misses Thor and-“

“Don’t drag _me_ into this,” Jane interrupted indignantly. “I was more than happy working.”

At that Darcy exploded into a frenzy of wild gestures and stamping feet. “Are you _kidding_ me? Jane, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for THREE DAYS! Yesterday you forgot your own address! I am taking you out for everyone’s sanity. And don’t give me that fucking look, asshole. I am going out and I am going to drink sugary, alcoholic drinks and gorge myself on tapas and you can just deal with it!” She punctuated the last sentence with a daring glare at James. 

“You think you can win this little game?” he asked quietly, remaining calm despite his clenched fists and blood boiling.

“Nope. Game’s over! I am done with you. I’m done with eating boiled chicken and drinking pond scum and busting my ass trying to keep up with your insane rules. I’M FUCKING DONE!”

“What’s the problem?” a new no-nonsense voice had entered the room.

The shouting had brought Steve out from his room, along with a disheveled and frustrated looking Sharon Carter. They both stopped short, mouths agape when they realized it was Darcy making all the noise. James barked out a laugh and he just looked so pleased with himself, so fucking smug, that Darcy couldn’t stop herself. She put one foot forward, cocked back and put all her momentum into punching the bastard square in the nose. Just like he taught her.

The room went dead silent. Not even Sharon, who generally liked seeing Barnes in pain, so much as gasped. Steve looked like he wanted to step in, limbs tense and ready, but James waved him off. He brought his flesh hand to his face and it came away covered in blood. Darcy was shaking both in pain and anger, but she remained tight lipped and sickly proud that she drew blood. A pale, worried Jane hovered over her shoulder and bounced on her toes in anxiety. James broke the long silence with a wet, muffled laugh.

“No problem here, Cap. My girl is just finally standing up for herself.” He tried wiped some blood away with his sleeve and wound up just kind of smearing it all over his neck and chin. It didn’t seem to faze him one bit that she had clocked him. “How’s that hand feeling, sweetheart?”

Darcy couldn’t answer. She was so mad that every word clumped up in her throat and threatened to choke her. She’d never hit anyone like that before. Never even thought herself capable of it. She thought maybe she’d feel better after, but she still could feel the angry energy thrumming under her skin. 

“Darcy?” Jane whispered, touching her friends shoulder. She could feel how tense the muscles were and proceeded with caution. “Are you okay?”

Jane’s quiet voice broke through the veil and Darcy turned to face her, feeling guilty for upsetting her friend. She was only trying to help her out in the first place. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. “Sorry,” she croaked out. 

Satisfied that Darcy had started to mellow out, Jane gently grabbed her wrist and examined Darcy’s hand. It was just starting to turn pink and a little puffy, and it throbbed like a bitch when Jane let it go. “Shut up, that was kinda amazing. You looked like some fierce Amazon woman. I’ve never seen you like that, Darce. Your hand might be tad worse for wear though. I mean sorry about your face and everything, Barnes, but wow.”

Darcy actually smiled a little before James took his turn to examine her hand with his cold metal fingers, making her grimace. He was decidedly less gentle than Jane. 

“Ouch, fucker! A little warning might have been nice.”

That made James grin broadly again as he guided her in trying to flex her fingers. They didn’t seem to want to move. “Let’s get some ice on this and take you down to the infirmary for x-rays. I think you might have broken it.”

“Hold on,” Steve finally spoke up, using his Captain Voice and everything. “Bucky, you _wanted_ her to punch you, didn’t you?”

“I knew she had it in her somewhere. It’s worth a little bloodshed to show her what she’s capable of,” he sounded like a proud parent gushing about his kid making the honor roll, instead of a former assassin bragging about provoking a young woman to break her hand on his face. Darcy yanked her hand from him, regretting it immediately when hot barbs of pain shot up her arm. Tears sprung up in her eyes, but she ignored them.

“ _You wanted me to punch you_? Are you a fucking psychopath!? I hurt myself!” Darcy was back to the screaming and foot stomping. James brought his hands up in a placating gesture.

“I didn’t expect you to actually hit me, Darcy, but essentially yes. By the way, good form, but next time try to align your first two knuckles with the bones in your arm like this-“he grabbed her uninjured hand in his metal one and arranged her fist just so. Darcy let him for a moment because her hand fucking hurt and learning the correct way to punch might help that to never happen again. But as soon as she got the arrangement of her knuckles right, she snatched her hand away.

“You _are_ a psychopath.”

“Maybe, but when I first met you, you would barely raise your voice over a whisper and now you scream like a banshee and hit like one too. I’d call that progress!” he beamed back at her. The whole pride thing was starting to creep her out. She was relieved when Steve stepped up and grabbed James by the shoulders.

“Was it really necessary though, all the mind games? Couldn’t you have just-“ James cut his friend off with a snarl and a glare.

“Damn right it was necessary. Darcy is a target, Steve. She’s been one since the second she stepped foot in this tower and I have to make sure she can take care of herself! If that means she gets a little banged up in the process, I don’t give a shit. At least she has a chance to _survive_ now.” An eeriness crept over James’ features, making him look more like the Winter Soldier than Bucky Barnes. 

Not for the first time, Darcy found herself thinking about his life as the Winter Soldier. What he had to have gone through to become this dark, twisted man that stood like a fierce statue, glaring daggers at his best (only) friend in the world, a hollow shell of what he used to be. She could only imagine the horrors he’d seen and caused. Her heart felt too small at the thought that he, this man that she thought cared about _nothing_ , cared enough about her well-being to prepare her for the worst. To _become_ the worst for her. She finally realized why Natasha chose Bucky to take over for her. Tears threatened to spill again, but for a whole different reason.

“Thank you,” she said softly to Bucky, bringing him back to himself. “I’m sorry I punched you, I didn’t know-“a sob escaped her throat and the whole damn broke. Tears leaked out despite her best efforts and the whole situation finally overwhelmed her.

“Shh sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m to one that should be sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Sometimes I forget-“ he trailed off as Darcy continued to cry, her whole frame shaking with the force of her sobs. James looked positively lost. “C’mere.” And he shocked everyone (including himself) when he threw his arms wide and enveloped Darcy in the bloodiest, most earth-shattering hug she’d ever had. 

Sharon cleared her throat loudly when the embrace seemed like it wasn’t going to end any time soon. “This is touching and all, but you’re bleeding all over the carpet.”

Darcy startled, pulling back to look at James fully. His nose was still steadily streaming blood, which had run in rivers down her arm (thankfully clear of her dress) and off her elbow to drip onto the foyer’s pristine cream colored carpet during their hug. Her heart shrank again when she realized he must be in a lot of pain (or at least uncomfortable, she was unsure how his version of superhero steroids worked exactly), but was more concerned with her than himself. She sniffed and brushed the tear tracks off her cheeks.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. I really made a mess of your face.”

“Oh no, you’re going straight downstairs to get that hand looked at. Steve can clean up this moron. The two of them heal themselves like freaking video game characters,” Sharon said, already with her hand curled around Darcy’s good arm and gently pressuring her to follow her lead. 

Darcy gave in, too tired and emotionally stretched out to make any argument. Sharon gave Steve a quick peck on the cheek, sent another glare Bucky’s way, and lead Darcy with Jane in tow to the elevator. 

Later that night, the three woman reappeared to their floor to find one of Stark’s robots scrubbing at the stain in the carpet and the two soldiers watching (and correcting the inaccuracies of) Diehard in the shared living area. An unbloodied James stood up when they stepped off the elevator and sought Darcy’s gaze, but was alarmed to find her supported between Sharon and Jane. One ditzy smile from the patient though was all it took for him to relax for the first time that night.

“She’s fine, just blissed out,” Sharon explained, helping Darcy to the couch.

Her hand turned out to indeed be broken and now wrapped in a soft splint until the swelling went down enough for an actual hard cast. The on-call doctor had given her some pretty strong pain killers though, so Darcy wasn’t feeling _anything_. Unless fluffy was a feeling. She felt _fluffy_.

James sat back down next to her as she slumped down unto the cushions. “How ya doing, sweetheart?” he asked gently. Darcy chose to answer by snuggling into his side and sighing contentedly.

“Yeah, she’s kind of a cuddly drunk. Figures she’d be the same stoned,” Jane explained, bending down to take off Darcy’s shoes so she could get more comfortable. She rarely ever got the chance to take care of Darcy for a change and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to pay her friend back for all she did. 

“You’re the stoned one, Jane,” Darcy mumbled, her face squished up against James’ chest. She then mimed taking a giant toke of a joint and pretended to pass it to Steve. Jane turned an impressive color of red.

“It was one time! And I had just saved the fucking UNIVERSE so I think I’m excused for… _indulging_ ,” Jane grumbled, but still looked fondly down at the strange way Darcy had contorted herself into James’ space while keeping her bandaged arm raised comically above her head.

“I helped a little. So did Thor, and no-pants and Intern Lad and-“ Darcy yawned, “mew-mew.”

Jane laughed so hard she snorted. “Yeah, Darce. You were a lot of help. I couldn’t have done it without you,” she admitted, leaning down to give her best friend an awkward hug. She knew it shouldn’t have to take Darcy breaking her hand, having a meltdown and being high off prescription drugs to say it, but Jane was glad to let her know just how much she meant to her. To the whole universe.

“Love you too, Boss Lady.”

“Okay, it’s time you got to bed, Darcy. You’re going to be hurting in the morning,” James stated, breaking up the little impromptu love-fest. He gave Darcy a little shake and she groaned dramatically.

“He’s so _bossy_. Has he always been this way Steve-O?” 

Steve smiled back at the odd pair. “He’s always been a bit of a mother hen. Always making sure I took my medicine and saving my skinny butt from fights. “He had that fond glint in his eye that meant he was romanticizing the past again. His nostalgia seemed to be contagious, and for a minute James got the same look in his normally steely eyes.

“Someone had to do it, punk.”

“Not to ruin this touching moment between two old fogeys, but it’s one in the morning and I have to get to work in seven hours. I’m going to bed,” Sharon managed to say between yawns and stretching her back. “Goodnight, all. I hope you feel better soon, Darcy.”

Steve gave Bucky another fond smile before standing up and turning off the TV. “I should go too. She gets mad when I come to bed late. Says I make too much noise,” he teased, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend and pulling her close to his side in a rare display of affection. Normally, Sharon was twitchy about embracing in public, but she was too tired to really care.

“Goodnight,” Jane and James chimed together. Darcy waved her good hand at the couple without lifting her heavy head. They repeated the sentiment and made their way back to their room.

“Well, I better get to bed too. Thor is coming back Monday and I want to spend tomorrow cleaning the room. I may have gotten too used to living by myself again.” Jane hesitated for a second before planting a soft kiss to the top of Darcy’s head. “Will you get her to bed? I can’t carry her myself.”

“Sure,” he replied, feeling tired himself. Darcy turned a little to look out at Jane.

“Night, Jane,” she slurred, sounding vaguely like she was talking around a mouthful of marbles. 

“Goodnight, Darcy. I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything. Just yell, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy repeated and just like that they were alone for the first time all night. Darcy made a cute little moan while she stretched and cuddled deeper into James’ side, and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her and breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. He didn’t want to take advantage of her less than conscious state, but she just felt so soft and warm against him. And that’s how he knew he was in deep trouble.

“This is nice,” Darcy sighed, bringing James back to the reality. He really needed to get her to bed before either of them did or said anything they’d regret by sunrise.

“Come on, Dopey. Bed time. “He untangled himself and stood up. Darcy whimpered at the loss of her new favorite body pillow.

“Bucky,” she whined, unwittingly using that name for the first time out loud. He froze, his palm suddenly sweaty. He found he liked the thought of her calling him that. Being around her made him want to be Bucky again and not just so Steve would stop looking at him like a kicked puppy. He wanted to be that confident, suave young man that knew how to show a dame a good time. Darcy deserved someone like that. And he didn’t mind trying.

“Bed,” he repeated, trying to sound at least a little stern, but failing. What the hell was she doing to him?

“Come here,” she said, reaching for him with her uninjured arm. He sank back down into her touch against his will. She combed her fingers through his hair and sighed again.

“My hero,” she whispered and clumsily booped his nose. Despite her adorable inebriation, James scowled.

“I broke your hand, Darce. I’m no hero.” It physically hurt, her calling him a hero, like a punch to the gut. Darcy frowned and petted his head again.

“No, Silly. You were saving me,” she wasn’t making any sense, but all of a sudden it didn’t matter because her lips were on his and he was kissing her and everything was perfect. As far as kisses went, it was chaste. A simple touch of lips, dry, closed mouthed and sweet. Too little and too much at the same time. He shifted her gently onto his lap and delved deeper, encouraging her to move with him. 

A tiny moan from the back of Darcy's throat made him shiver, and he forced himself to pull away. He didn't deserve this, her. A dark voice in his head reminded him that she probably wouldn't remember this in the morning. That she was his for the taking. And the worst part was that large part of him wanted to listen. An impatient hand brought his face back towards Darcy's and away from the thoughts plaguing him. He was going to hell for this for sure. She clung to him like a sloth to a tree as he stood and carried her towards her rooms, not breaking the lazy press of their lips.

But, ultimately, Bucky decided not to give in.

It took every ounce of resolve he had to leave her nestled, alone in her obnoxiously colorful bed. Once she was comfortable, her eyes finally fluttering shut, James turned out the lights and quietly closed the door behind him. As he made his way to his own rooms, he felt a warm tug in his chest like he was free-falling right before hitting the ground hard, some how strange and familiar all at once. He didn't like it one bit.

\----


	2. Under My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha returns only to realize her best friends are the stupidest people on the face of the Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow. I am utterly overwhelmed by the response this has gotten. You guys seriously made me cry tears of joy! I can't thank you all enough, especially those that commented and gave kudos. 
> 
> I decided to post this now as a 'thank you' for all your kindness. It's kind of just a tease setting up the rest of the series, but I enjoyed writing it. Yes, there will be more and I have lots of ideas for the two. <3

 

_“I don’t think there’s anyone under your skin, like a Cheshire cat I think that you are just a grin” - Jukebox the Ghost- Under My Skin_

Natasha Romanov, rocking platinum blond curls and tanned skin, returned home and limped slightly into the Stark Tower private gym for the first time in months, to find her friend Darcy with a neon green cast and a grim expression doing leg presses. James, standing over Darcy and looking equally taciturn, turned to look at Natasha as she came towards them. They exchanged their customary silent greeting/expression of contentment to find each other alive and well. Darcy grunted, rolled off the exercise bench a little less than gracefully, and launched herself at Natasha.

“You’re back! And blonde now? Oh well, I missed you!” Natasha laughed quietly as she hugged Darcy back. And if she squeezed the younger woman a little tighter than comfortable, no one mentioned it.

“I missed you too, Darcy,” she replied as she pulled away. She’d experienced a lot of _unpleasantness_ on her mission, the whole thing going belly up about two weeks into her cover, and it was refreshing to be back around loved ones. Not that she’d ever admit it, especially not with James glowering at her over Darcy’s shoulder. Deciding to put him on the back burner until they could be alone, she focused on the bright hunk of plaster encasing her friend’s hand. “What’d you do to yourself, _myshka_?”

Darcy shrugged. “I socked Bucky on the nose. Look, Steve drew a dramatic reenactment on my cast!” She thrust her injured hand forward proudly, showing off the sharpie doodle. However, nothing got past the Black Widow and she filed away the fact that Darcy had switched from using Barnes to Bucky in the relatively short time she was gone. It went right next to the fact that James Barnes has never let _anyone_ that hit him walk away unscathed, let alone brag about it right in front of his face. Natasha was in danger of grinning like fool when it all clicked in her mind.

“That’s my girl! But next time use the heel of your hand and thrust up,” Natasha paused to give a rather violent pantomime of forcing a person’s nose into their brain. “That way you walk away intact and James spends the rest of the day drooling on the floor. Of course, the damage is a lot more catastrophic when used on your work-a-day assailant,” she finished with a wink and a devious smirk.

“I’ll try to remember that, you know, for next time,” Darcy said slowly, still nowhere near comfortable with violence and she could never tell when Natasha was joking.

“Good. Why don’t you go hit the showers and we’ll go get some lunch? I’m starved,” Natasha suggested then shot James a “ _we need to talk_ ” look over Darcy’s shoulder. He nodded mutely.

“Sure, if my tyrannical overlord will grant me leave,” Darcy responded and whirled around to feign groveling at Bucky. “Oh please, _sir_. I haven’t seen my friend in ever so long.”

“Fine,” he muttered back, not even looking at her. Natasha laughed, but the tension between the two concerned her. The two of them clearly weren’t the smartest people when it came to the thing staring them blatantly in the face.

“It’s a miracle! Give me thirty minutes,” Darcy hugged Natasha again before turning to leave. “And start thinking about places to eat. I don’t care where we go as long as I can get carbs there!” she called before closing the door to the co-ed locker-room behind her. James scowled some more.

“So,” Natasha began, grinning at her old mentor. “How does it feel to have _Darcy_ get the jump on you? You must be getting slow in your old age, _moy droog_.”

“Funny. How’d you injure your left foot?” James asked, purposely being evasive. He didn’t want to talk about Darcy. Ever. Especially with the one person that could read him like fucking open book. Natasha rolled her eyes and flexed her stiff leg.

“Actually, it’s my ACL and it’s only a small tear. You really are losing it. What did she do to you?” She knew Darcy had a way of getting under people’s skin and making herself home there whether they liked it or not. The same had happened to her. But she thought James would be more immune. He normally took to new people like a cat to a swimming pool. Had the diminutive assistant with the big mouth managed the impossible, twice?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled and stalked away.

Natasha’s hand shot out like a viper to grab his bicep and he reacted predictably, turning into her grip before using his weight advantage to whip her completely around and force her arm up against her back.

“Who’s old and slow now?” he whispered venomously into her ear. Natasha simply laughed, elbowed him hard in the spleen and used her momentum to flip him over her shoulder and onto the padded gym floor.

“Still you, darling.” She made a show of dusting herself off while he sat up and glared at her mutinously. “This stupid self-punishing act of yours is more than a little played out, don’t you think? Give me a call when you feel like being a man and owning up to your feelings,” she tossed behind her as she exited the gym with a perk in her somewhat unsteady step.  

 

* * *

 

 

Darcy and Natasha sat together in the shade on the patio of a little New York pizzeria and each enjoyed a large slice of their favorite guilty pleasure. Darcy moaned obscenely as she took a big bite of cheese, grease and heaven.

“Oh pizza, I think I missed you most of all,” she told her food as Natasha snorted into her own slice.

“Americans might normally have horrible tastes, but they sure got it right with pizza,” Natasha nodded at her friend, smiling so much it made the muscles in her cheeks sore.

As much as Darcy relied on Natasha for guidance and advice, Natasha relied on Darcy for _this_. A moment where she could let down her guard a smidgen and smile and laugh with a genuine friend. She never had to worry about ulterior motives with Darcy. What you saw was what you got. After the tense couple of months she’d had, it was just what Natasha needed.

“Everything go okay in, where was it again, Krakow?” Darcy knew better than to expect direct answers about missions, but she noticed the way Natasha was favoring her right leg and was worried.

“Kiev. And it went god-awful. I’m fine though, Darce. I promise,” she replied to the anxious look on her friends face. She may not heal as fast as the super soldiers, but Natasha wasn’t lacking in the _enhanced_ department. Her leg would be good as new before the week was out. “Now, catch me up on all I’ve missed.”

Darcy took a deep breath and dived head first into the superhero soap opera that was living in Stark Tower. She told Natasha the story of how she got a new cat. How mad Jane was when Thor bought a box of kittens from some kids on the subway. He was so crushed when the scientist made him give all but one away, but she got to keep one (she named it Doug and he was awesome, if a little dim) And she then described in great detail the look on Tony’s face when Sam Wilson finally let him make adjustments to the Falcon wings. It continued on like that for a while, Darcy painting a strange picture of the Avenger’s personal lives and Natasha soaking it all up greedily. It was like belonging to the greatest, most dysfunctional family ever.

But it didn’t take long for Natasha to realize Darcy was purposely leaving certain events, and people, out of the stories, namely James and their relationship while she was gone. And Natasha had had enough of people trying to hide things from her.

“Are you having sex with James Barnes?” she asked abruptly, interrupting Darcy trying to explain a complicated series of code Bruce had taught her that could change JARVIS’ posh accent into a cockney one. Darcy immediately choked on some spit, turned red in the face and coughed uncontrollably. She had to gulp down some root beer before she could talk again.

“ _No_! Where the hell did _that_ come from?” she sputtered.

Natasha couldn’t have gotten it more wrong. After their little incident, Bucky started to crawl back into his shell, hardcore, and nothing Darcy tried seemed to help. She knew it was because they kissed. The details were a little hazy, however she remembered him giving her a glimpse of his human side, the soft center buried deep under all those layers of scar tissue, Kevlar and hard leather. They shared an actual real moment together (and from what she could recall, a pretty dynamite smooch), but by morning he was back peddling so fast it made her head spin. Darcy had to admit, it kind of stung when he first shunned her the next day, though she understood. It really pissed her off sometimes, but she understood. They immediately went back to trainer-trainee status, but with James not pushing so hard and Darcy not being so timid. If you squinted you could call it progress.

“You call him Bucky now, for one,” Natasha said, her eyebrow twitching upwards. She knew then that the reverse was true, that her old friend had wormed his way under Darcy’s skin too.

“So does Steve. Does that mean _they’re_ fucking? Actually, that makes a lot of-“

“Focus, Darcy,” Natasha snapped. “Something’s changed with both of you and it’s eating at me! Did he make a pass at you, is that why you hit him?”

Darcy sighed and scrubbed her hand down her face. “It’s not like that, well not really. We did, uh, _kiss_. But not ‘til after I punched him.”

“You kissed him, or he kissed you?” Darcy was in way over her head, gossiping about kissing boys with the Black Widow. What had her life even become?

“That’s the thing, I kinda don’t remember…”

“ _You don’t remember_ ,” Natasha repeated incredulously.

“Not really. My hand was broken so the doctor gave me these pills and things got a little fuzzy after that. I remember sitting on the couch in the living room with everybody, then Bucky and I suddenly being alone and kissing and then I wake up alone in my bed still fully dressed and he ignores me for two days. Clearly, whatever happened he regrets it and _that’s fine_. He still trains me twice a week and monitors what I eat. It’s not like much has changed.” Darcy looked so crestfallen, despite her words, that Natasha reached out across the table and held her good hand to comfort her.

“James regrets a lot of things in his life, _myshka_ , but kissing you isn’t one of them. Believe me. You don’t know him like I do yet. He’s very different around you,” Natasha smiled gently. Darcy pulled her hand free, moving to cradle her busted hand against her chest, not believing a word the spy said.

“Sure, he’s hopelessly in love with me and that’s why he looks at me like something he found stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Look, Nat, I get what you’re trying to do, just don’t okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha sighed heavily. It was official. Both of her friends were utter morons.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Steve Rogers was startled in his own office when he looked up from some paperwork to find Natasha perched demurely on the chair in front of his chest. During her absence he had gotten used to people actually _knocking_ when they wanted to talk to him.

“I swear, you could spook a ghost Nat,” he said as he leaned back in his chair to study her. He worked with her long enough to know that she wanted something from him.

“Thank you,” she replied with a nod of her now red again head.

“And you’re haunting my office because…?”

“You’re the Star Spangled Man and I find myself in need of a plan," she quipped, tongue firmly in cheek. "One that involves a certain recovering amnesiac and a busty brunette with a heart of gold, neither of which could spot a metaphor for being pathetically hung up on each other if it reached out and punched them in the nose.”

Steve was relieved that someone else had noticed their friends were idiots.

So, they put their heads together and started to scheme.

-


End file.
